


New Soul

by Unknown



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Baby!Fic, Because I DO WHAT I WANT, M/M, Mpreg, also mpreg, asked for this, but the i was like, i dunno guys, i like baby!fic, i wasn't sure at first, my bro on tumblr, so i did it, there, yeah - Freeform, yup, yup mpreg sounds great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/pseuds/Unknown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Stiles thinks is that he looks very squishy and small. The second thing he thinks is, <i> Holy shit I’m a dad now, oh god </i>. And no, it didn’t take very long for the panic to set in, but hey. He hadn’t been expecting it to be that fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Soul

**Author's Note:**

> My friend over on tumblr, its-dylan-ray, asked for a sterek baby fic and I just... I took forever writing it. But darling, this is for you, so have at it sweetheart. 
> 
> I worked extra fucking hard for you man. Anyway.
> 
> Title of the fic comes from Yael Naim's song, 'New Soul'.

The first thing Stiles thinks is that he looks very squishy and small. The second thing he thinks is, _Holy shit I’m a dad now, oh god_. And no, it didn’t take very long for the panic to set in, but hey. He hadn’t been expecting it to be that fast.

Derek is, unfortunately, right there behind him.

“Fuck,” he says quietly, since the baby is sleeping and he has enough parental instinct to at least be quiet about his freaking out. “We’re parents.” He looks terrified.

“This… who thought this was a good idea? Was it you? You thought getting a baby was good? Or was it me? I can’t remember,” Stiles blabbers. He thinks it was him since he carried the damn infant around for nine months, but hey. He could be wrong; he’s been known to be wrong before. Stiles gets quiet too, though, because Derek is quiet and it seems like a smart thing to do.

It’s only been a day; they’d gotten to take him home right from the hospital. He’s healthy and whole and theirs, the thought so new and terrifying that sometimes, Stiles looks at the baby in the bassinet and doesn’t associate him with either him or his husband.

And then he remembers, _oh that’s mine_ , and a warm, content feeling gushes into his chest and makes his throat feel tight and he’s in love all over again. And then he realizes _, holy shit that’s mine_ , and he freaks out.

Like right now for instance.

“What if we screw up?” he whisper-screams. “What if he grows up and he hates us? What if he hates just me and loves you, or the other way around? Derek, Derek what if - ?”

“Stiles, shut up,” Derek grates out, eyes so focused on the baby in front of them that Stiles is sure he hasn’t blinked in a few minutes. “Just let me… let me think.”

Stiles lets him think for all of ten seconds before he opens his mouth and is off again. “Yeah but Derek, I’m gonna suck. Don’t you have like, instincts?”

“Don’t you?” Derek snaps, then rubs his eyes. “We have a baby, Stiles. _Our_ baby.”

“Yeah,” Stiles echoes back. He’s married at 26 and he has a baby. Awesome. It sounds a lot less daunting when Derek says ‘our baby’ though. Like, they’re in this together or something like that. “Our baby.”

“Right.” When Derek smiles, the panic melts away in his chest.

That is, until the baby wakes up and he starts to cry, because then they both scramble around frantically and oh, what a wonderful life they lead.

* * *

“You two look like absolute crap,” his dad says, walking into the house a few months later. Derek’s head sleepily snaps up from the newspaper he’s reading and Stiles half turns from the stove top where he’s cooking breakfast and brewing industrial-strength coffee. In a bassinet by his Daddy, Dean (and god  Stiles had to fight for that name) is fast asleep. It’s taken a few months for him to be able to sleep through the night, but now that it’s happened, Stiles couldn’t be more thankful. “I mean,” his dad continues, “have you two had sex and took a good nap afterward lately?”

Scandalized, Stiles starts to say, “I will not discuss that,” while Derek cuts to the chase and says, “No,” quite blandly, Stiles might add. It’s true, but he’s not that into discussing his love-life with his dad, thanks very much.

“You want a break from him?” his dad asks.

This time, the two of them answer, “No,” at the same time, and his dad smiles.

“Attached already, are we?” he says slyly, sitting across from Derek at the table.

“Bite me,” Stiles mutters, and his dad just chuckles.

“I think that’s for your husband to do, isn’t it?” Across from him, Derek’s eyes flash red and he wiggles his eyebrows. Stiles knows what he’s doing even though his back is turned.

“Stop being a pervert around my dad and our son,” he says half-heartedly.

“Make me,” Derek shoots back, folding up the newspaper and handing it to Stiles’ dad while keeping the crossword for himself.

“I can refuse to feed you, you know. Cut your baby-time in half…” Stiles trails off. He’d kidding of course. He’d never cut Derek’s baby-time in half. They love their baby. He will, however, refuse to feed him because Derek is a grown ass man and can cook for himself.

Derek just glares at him, but keeps his mouth shut because he wants food and he wants his baby-time. Stiles grins in triumph and hands over the plate of breakfast, but at that moment, Dean wakes up and Derek swoops in and picks him up, cradling him in one arm because he’s so tiny compared to Derek and with his werewolf strength, he can pick Dean up so easily. It’s actually super-hot and once Stiles got over the panic of Derek possible accidentally dropping their baby, he realized that it was a great fantasy to get off to, as long as he subtracted their kid from it because – no.

Stiles makes a bottle and hands it to Derek. They all eat together, Derek switching between eating and feeding the baby, and then Stiles takes him to get changed while Derek sees his dad out. Stiles is careful with Dean on the changing table after the almost-accident they had a few weeks ago. He’d turned away to reach for a diaper and Dean had almost rolled off. Derek had walked in at the right time and had rushed over faster than Stiles could, catching him.

Stiles had been desolate for a week. Derek hadn’t talked to him for all of ten minutes before feeling bad about being irritated that Stiles had almost-accidentally let their baby fall. After all, accidents happened, and now the both of them are almost too cautious when changing him.

He gets Dean’s diaper changed (they have the cloth kind because Derek’s mom used those and so did Stiles’ mom, so the both of them are a bit biased and think they’re better than the disposable kind) and then changes him into a Batman onsie with Superman socks. It’s warm in the house, so he doesn’t put any pants on him, lets him be free in his little onsie.

When Stiles walks out of the nursery, he finds Derek sitting at the kitchen table, catching up on some work papers. Derek looks up at Stiles cradling their baby and his face goes soft. Stiles feels his chest get tight, because he’s always liked the way Derek acts around him and their baby. He lets his guard down and Stiles knows he loves the two of them more than anything and would kill to protect them. After all, Stiles is in the same boat.

“My two favorite boys,” Derek says softly. “C’mere.” So Stiles goes over and lets Derek pull him onto his lap, feels safe as two strong arms wind themselves around his waist. Derek leans down and kisses Dean’s smooth forehead, his little eyes already fluttering closed, ready for a morning nap.

“Love you,” Stiles says. “Even though we don’t have sex much anymore.”

Derek chuckles. “Soon. He’s doing better at night. We’re gonna get there soon.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. He knows that neither of them mind too much, though he does miss the intimacy. The baby pretty much makes up for it, being an amazing bundle of joy, but still. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to the day (or night) they could have sex without being interrupted.

* * *

“Just say it. Say ‘Dadda’. Come on, Dean-o. Dad-da.” Stiles makes a face as his six month old giggles and grabs at his mouth. Dean’s eyes are really green and his hair is a caramel brown. He’s the cutest thing in the history of cute, and Stiles is sure he’d be much cuter if he started talking sometime soon. “Just a small word. To make Dadda happy when he comes home,” Stiles begs. It’s Derek’s birthday today, and if he can get Dean to say this, even if it’s just once, he knows it’ll make the other man completely over-the-moon happy.

Instead, Dean just mashes his pureed peas in Stiles face and he grimaces. So much for that. He cleans himself and the baby up, then sets him down in his bouncer, letting him float around for a while, his little socked feet barely touching the hardwood floor of the living room.

Stiles goes about his business, making dinner and wrapping Derek’s gift (a new sketch set Stiles had seen him eyeing the last time they’d stopped by the art store). Dean’s bouncer is right to his left, so all he has to do is turn a bit to check on him. He does this a few times and at one point, when he looks, the baby is gone. Stiles has a second of pure, horrid anguish before he sees Derek standing off to the side with Dean in his arms, throwing him up in the air just to hear him laugh.

“Mother fucker, Derek. You just gave me a heartattack,” Stiles says, leaning against the counter and holding a palm flat to his chest. “Shit.”

Derek frowns and kisses his forehead. “Sorry. Thought you heard me come in.”

“I don’t have your werewolf senses, Sour Wolf,” Stiles says, trying to joke the jolt of anxiety away. “I was really caught up in cooking.” He pauses, feeling better with Derek near him. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

The smile he gets makes the last of the discomfort disappear. “Thank you.” Derek hoists Dean up on his hip a bit, then leans down to give Stiles a proper kiss. If the baby had been asleep, they would have turned off the oven and taken it to the bedroom for some birthday sex, it’s that kind of kiss. But as it is, he’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and they have a birthday dinner and some cake to destroy.

It’s just the three of them for the night. Over the weekend they’ll go see the others and celebrate properly, but on the actual day, it’s a Hales only kind of deal. Stiles likes it because he feels like it brings them closer together as a family.

He asks Derek how work was, comments on his day, and fills him in on Dean’s poop schedule. As ridiculous as it sounds, it’s necessary since the little guy’s been having bowel movement issues. Stiles reassures him that he’d been the same as a tyke, but Derek’s a bit paranoid when it comes to bodily functions going wrong, so he lets it slide.

After that, it’s cake and then presents. Derek paints Dean’s face with frosting, the baby catching his finger in both of his to suck the sweet cream off. When Stiles gets the package out, Derek hoists Dean into his lap and lets him help tear the wrapping apart. Stiles films the whole thing, because it’s hilarious to watch Dean’s face get so concentrated on something as simple as tearing paper, and Derek is completely gorgeous when he laughs at it. The look on his face when he sees what Stiles has gotten him is pretty great too, so that’s another plus.

“You…” Derek just looks at the set. “Wow.”

“I pay attention,” Stiles says. “And anyways, you haven’t drawn him in a bit,” he says, gesturing to Dean. Derek used to sketch him as a newborn all the time to get rid of the excess stress and anxiety that came with being a new parent. Stiles had taken to framing them and hanging them up around the house because they were actually really good.

Derek leans over the table to kiss him and when he pulls back, Stiles gives their son the stink eye. “So,” he says, leaning in close so as to make Dean giggle. “You have anything to say to _Dadda_?” He puts extra emphasis on the word, hoping something rubs off and maybe he goes for it. He isn’t expecting it to work though.

“Daa-daa,” Dean garbles out, and the rest of what comes out of his mouth is gibberish. Stiles sits back and stares at the baby then at Derek, who’s looking completely speechless.

“Um, so I wasn’t sure if that would work or not but um, happy birthday babe,” Stiles stutters out. Derek’s face splits into one of those rare grins. Then he gets serious.

“Did you get that on tape?”

The rest of the night is spent with Stiles going through the recordings of the night and exhaling in relief when he plays the part back to Derek later on that night when Dean is asleep. It would have been embarrassing, he tells Derek, if he hadn’t been able to catch their son’s first word on camera.

The sex after that is awesome.

* * *

Stiles gets a cold a few months later. It’s gross; his nose is leaking, his head is killing and his chest aches with congestion. Derek caters to him and takes care of Dean the entire time, and Stiles could never ask for a better spouse, honestly.

A few days later, he’s recovering. He wakes up to Derek lying on his back beside him, Dean asleep on his chest. Derek has one arm sprawled above his head, the other with his hand under Dean’s bottom, holding him close. Stiles shifts closer, thankful that he’s not contagious, sighing as he watches his two favorite people in the world lounge beside him.

“Hey,” Derek says softly, the arm above his head going down to wrap around Stiles’ shoulders and bring him closer. “How you feeling?”

“Better,” Stiles admits. “How long has he been like this?” he asks.

“An hour?” Derek estimates. “Fell fast asleep the second I laid down next to you. He got a bit fussy away from his Poppa for so long,” Derek says with a smile.

Stiles throws an arm across Derek’s waist, nudging a leg between his. “You sleepy?”

“No. Why? Are you going back to sleep?” Derek asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I just don’t wanna squish him if we both end up falling asleep.”

“If I feel tired, I’ll put him down before I let myself drift off. Promise,” Derek says soothingly. “Get some rest.”

“M’kay,” Stiles says.

He wakes up a few hours later and Derek is sitting on a chair near the bed, his sketch pad on his lap, looking up every few seconds, not only to get a better picture for his sketching, but also to make sure Stiles hasn’t rolled over Dean, who’s sleeping on the bed right beside him, arms above his head and just far enough away from Stiles that there’s a low risk of getting rolled - especially with Derek watching -  and far enough away from the edge that if he moves in his sleep, he won’t roll right off.

“That’s gonna be a great picture,” Stiles says, speaking so Derek knows he’s away and that he can focus on sketching now that Stiles can watch the baby and himself. He feels a lot better.

“You’re right, it will be,” Derek concedes. “You know, if you don’t move. Which you are.” Stiles laughs, but lies still for a while because why not? His husbands here, their baby’s here and he’s feeling like a million bucks. Well, a million bucks that got run over by a car, but still. A million’s a million, whichever way you dice it.

* * *

“Stiles, grab the camera!” he hears Derek call from the living room. He dutifully grabs the camera before sprinting to the room, and then promptly staring in shock. Dean is standing up, all on his own, wobbling there between the coffee table and the couch, looking frozen in panic as if debating whether he should try taking a step toward Derek or just stand there.

“Stiles now!” Derek says, and that knocks him out of it. Stiles turns on the camera and films his Derek telling their baby to walk over to him. Dean is ten months old. If today ends up being productive, he might be walking in a week.

“Go to Dadda, baby-boy,” Stiles says, making shooing motions in Derek’s direction. “Go, go to Dadda.” Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to do. Dean turns toward the sound of his voice and gets overly excited at seeing him in the room. He unconsciously makes his way to Stiles, not even realizing he’s walking, so he’s doing great, no matter how wobbly he gets. It takes a minute, but he realizes he’s doing something new, and promptly freaks the fuck out.

Dean falls on his bottom after that and sits on the floor for a minute in shock before he bursts out into tears.

Derek runs over, a smile on his face, swallowing his chuckles as he picks the baby up, soothing him. He looks at Stiles with the cheesiest grin on his face, then scowls when he realizes he’s still filming. Derek hates to be on camera unless it’s for a special occasion like his birthday or their wedding.

Stiles thinks this is a special occasion. So he can go suck Stiles’ dick. Which isn’t much of an insult since he does suck it on occasion, but whatever. Stiles keeps on filming until Dean is calmed down enough that he’ll laugh when Derek makes faces at him. It’s sweet and cute, and Stiles’ face hurts from smiling so damn much.

* * *

It’s Derek and Stiles 3 year anniversary a few weeks later, and Stiles comes home from work to a quiet house. It’s a bit odd; normally at this time, Derek would be washing Dean and getting him ready for dinner. It’s too quiet in the house for any of that to be happening.

Instead, when he walks into the kitchen, the lights are out and there are lit candles on the kitchen table. He’s confused.

“Um…”

“Happy anniversary,” Derek says, walking in from the other kitchen entrance. His arms are empty of baby and Stiles is still a bit confused as to where their kid disappeared off to.

“Happy anniversary,” he says. “Where’d Dean go?”

Derek rolls his eyes, his irises glowing red in the dark. “He’s at your dad’s. We have the night to ourselves.” He gets closer and kisses Stiles slowly, and yeah. Stiles misses this.

“So what’s with the candles? Planning on setting fire to the kitchen, or was this your attempt at romance?” Stiles asks with a grin. Derek nips at his lip in retaliation, but it’s too late. Stiles is already laughing.

They have a nice night, exchanging gifts and re-watching their wedding and honeymoon videos. At around midnight, they head to bed, buzzed on good, expensive wine that Stiles bought just for the occasion. The sex is sloppy and hot, just the way they like it, a bit rough around the edges since they don’t do it as often as they used to, but it’s good. They get to relearn each other several times over that night, mapping and remapping each other’s bodies and remembering everything that makes the other feel good.

In the morning, Stiles brings Derek breakfast in bed and they have another round before they shower and go to pick up Dean. As much as they loved their night, there’s a reason why those nights are special. They’re lives are with their baby now, not just with each other, and it’s good to have Dean back in the house, even only after one single night of him being away.

Neither of them would have it any other year.

* * *

The first birthday is always the hardest.

Stiles panics for a good week on the details of the party and then he gets depressed because his baby is turning a year old _already_ and how is he supposed to deal with that?

“Can I get post-partum depression?” Stiles asks. “I mean, so far into him growing up and stuff? Is that what this is?”

Derek cuddles him close the night before the party (on the actual day, on top of everything) and buries his face in Stiles’ neck. “Relax. It’s alright. Babies grow up, that’s what they do. He’s always gonna be our baby though. You’re not losing anything.”

“I know,” Stiles says and he cries a little and lets himself be held before he falls off into sleep.

The next day is hectic. With Dean walking around already at a year old, he’s everywhere and nowhere at once. Stiles has to chase him down for cake and he falls on his knees at one point, making Stiles feel like the worst parent in the history of parenting. He’s fine though, and Derek takes Dean to give Stiles a bit of a break. The party is in full swing, Lydia gushing at her newly-turned-one godchild, Jackson organizing presents with Danny because the two of them have OCD or something. Boyd and Erica play with paper plates and food while Isaac helps Derek put up another one of the decorations that have fallen, again. Allison is oddly quiet, but she’s smiling a lot and she’s sitting with Stiles’ dad and Scott’s mom, so he figures they’re ok.

He finds Scott in the bathroom though, which is a bit worrying.

“Dude, you’re godson just turned one. Get out there and celebrate before my husband comes and finds you and forces you to have a good time. He’ll play the chicken-dance on blast, man. I’m not even joking,” Stiles says with a small smile on his face. But Scott is sitting on the tile on the club’s bathroom floor and Stiles has a feeling something’s actually wrong. “Dude, what’s up?”

“Allison’s pregnant,” Scott says slowly. Stiles is a bit shocked. They’d only just gotten married last year. But still, it’s an awesome thing.

“Congrats, man.”

“No! Not congrats! Stiles, I’m not dad material! What if I turn out like… like my dad?” Scott says, sounding terrified. And Stiles gets it, he understands that complete fear of the unknown, of failing someone who has put their life in your hands without ever meaning to or having a choice. He gets it.

“You’re gonna be a great dad. Trust me.”

“But you and Derek make it seem so easy! I mean, Dean is great,” Scott says with so much sincerity that Stiles has to hug him.

“Dude, that took so much time and we fucked up a lot on the little things. Everyone’s gonna in the long run when they first have a baby,” Stiles admits. “Apparently, my dad dropped me on my head at some point.”

“That explains a lot,” Scott says, and then the both of them are laughing.

“You ready to get back to the party?” Stiles asks, and when Scott nods, he helps his friend up and together they walk out.

By the time they get out, Derek has Dean all set up with presents and he’s ripping through them, more interested in the wrapping paper than what’s inside, while Danny laughs and records everything, Isaac with a hand around his waist the entire time. He waves off Derek’s look of concern and joins his family at the table, spending the rest of the party in complete bliss.

Later on that night, when Dean is passed out from a sugar rush/crash and exhaustion, Derek and Stiles lay in bed, not asleep but just cuddling. Stiles is quiet for a minute, then he says, “Allison’s pregnant.”

Derek’s quiet. After a minute he nods. “Good for her and Scott,” he says kindly. His relationship with the two has gotten significantly better in recent years. “They’re gonna be great parents.”

“Yeah, they are.” Stiles is quiet. He clears his throat. “Uh, so. Yeah. How are you feeling about more kids?”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t mind. Dean’s been great. And it’ll probably be easier the second time around because we know what to expect, you know? So really…” He trails off, then looks at Stiles. “Wait, why are you asking?”

Stiles clears his throat and then takes Derek’s hand and puts it on his stomach. “Um… surprise? Looks like you got a present too and it’s not even your birthday.” Derek’s face is in complete surprise, a lot like the first time Stiles has told him he was pregnant. It’s good to know this still excites him. It sure as hell excites Stiles.

“Are you serious?” Derek asks, sitting up. “When?” he asks, breathless.

Stiles laughs as Derek manhandles him into a sitting position so he can press his hands and then his ear to his stomach. “Today, you nut. Scott mentioned Allison and it made sense as to why I was so emotional lately, especially about Dean’s birthday, like, out of nowhere. So I checked. Oh the wonder of home pregnancy tests.” He rolls his eyes. “And you can’t even hear anything yet. I’m not that far along, I don’t think. They’re probably an anniversary-sex baby or something.”

But then Derek’s kissing him because he’ll always be happy about Stiles having his babies, and Stiles is kissing him back and laying back on the bed, so he can get a better angle and yeah. Yeah, they’re having another baby and he kind of hopes it’s a little girl, but anything will do at this point.

“I love you,” Derek says, and Stiles grins against his mouth.

“Love you too, babe.” It’s at that moment that Dean decides to cry and fuss, calling for the both of them. Derek pauses for a second and then they both burst out into laughter.

“I’ll get him,” he says. “New moms get to rest.”

Derek leaves as Stiles protests to being called a mom, but secretly he likes it. He’s smiling wide by the time Derek comes back, having placated Dean enough to get him back to sleep. Derek hops into bed and holds him close, hand splayed warmly over his belly.

He couldn’t be happier, honestly. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to remind everyone that I am not a parent, nor will I ever be if I get my way. That being said, I have a lot of experience with babies, seeing as I come from a family where my mom had seven other brothers and sisters and I in turn had over 18 cousins, just on her side with like, 13 more on my dad's side of the family, if I ever really got to see them.
> 
> I'm number 6 out of 18. I have experience with babies. So.


End file.
